ye aasman ye badal ye raste ye hawa
har ek chiz hai apni jagah thikane se
kayi dino se shikayat nahi jamane se
ye jindagi hai safar aur safar hi manjil hai

The sky, the clouds, the winding paths, the breeze,
Each finds its place, in perfect, knowing ease.
For days now, silence stills complaint's sharp sting,
The world no longer offers poisoned spring.

Life is a journey, a whispered, sacred art,
And journey's self, the dwelling of the heart.